Well, the weekend did not disappoint.

First of all, there was the incident where somebody shit on my front step. Yep, that’s right. Somebody. Shit. On. My. Front. Step.

I explained the whole story here, because I really wanted to share it with a wider audience. Head over to check it out for yourself.

After dealing with that messy issue, the rest of the weekend seemed fairly tame. We hosted a supper at our house on Sunday evening, and then took my friend Cailin to get Screeched-In (video coming soon!). We weren’t planning on partying ourselves into oblivion, it just kinda happens.

After the Screech-In, we decided to do a George Street tour. It started at a new place called Club V (formerly my favourite hang-out, The Whiskey), a new dance bar. All good things happen in a dance bar where the second-level dance floor is made of glass.

Convenient for looking up skirts, yes?

Then, because we were busy chasing around Halifax dudes and I wanted to apologize to a bald man for slapping him (don’t ask), we ended up at the Cotton Club strip bar. You might remember this place from when I visited with a bunch of Chef’s friends last summer and the bar ran out of shot glasses…and I was the only one to survive the night.

Anyway. In coat-check, I was telling somebody about my stripper name, Shiniquia. Some dudes overheard me, and we started chatting. I was kinda drunk at that point, and went on to join my friends.

A few minutes later, the guys pull up a chair behind me and Cailin. One of them, let’s call him Strip Club Dude, proceded to talk my face off for an hour. He was a really nice guy, level-headed, polite. Apparently he was the designated driver (he didn’t stay long after that) and was just showing his friend around, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, he got my phone number, texted me the next morning and we agreed to meet up sometime after I come back from the bay.

I’m not sure if I will call him, though. How many successful relationships can you say begin in strip clubs? On the other hand, I’m a little impressed with myself for getting a date in a bar literally filled with naked women.

Anyway, mega depressed to be spending a whole vacation day on the DRL bus tomorrow. Shit-hole filth of the earth. Why can’t buses have WiFi? Imagine the work I’d get done.

Also, Somebody Up There is taunting me because Navy Dude (I feel like I’ve used this moniker before…?) is in town this weekend, and I could have secured myself a date. He’s on my Facebook and we message each other every now and then, and he seems pretty awesome. I mean, he has a profile pic of him wearing a speedo, but whatever. Of course, he lives in Halifax. Why is everything in Halifax?

This post is tagged dating, keg parties, navy dudes, poop, strip clubs